Keys to the Kingdom
by JudyH
Summary: My take on how season nine could begin...sure to be AU when it actually does...


This is my take on how season nine could begin...sure to become AU when it does:

Keys to the Kingdom

Dean stood in the vestibule of the desolate country church, his features shrouded in shadow, hands fisted tightly at his side. He stepped forward, allowing his eyes to adjust to the smoke tinged interior, his vision still backlit and sparkling from the heavenly light show he had just witnessed outside.

He wasn't quite sure what he was doing here, in the church, instead of outside with his deathly ill brother. But Sam had asked him, pleaded with him, insisted he would be fine in the car until Dean retrieved their captive, and so here he was. One day he would learn how to say no to his baby brother. But today was not that day.

The scent of the candles Sam had lit earlier lent a heavy pall to the air; they were spent now, puddles of wax congealed on the floor around the chair where Crowley sat, his head bowed, his body still. The echoes of Dean's boots roused their captive; his eyes rose slowly to meet Dean's as he shifted in his seat.

"How's Sam?"

Dean paused, his eyes hard and his lip involuntarily curled in disgust. "Why do you care?"

"I..." The demon paused, blinking. "I don't...I don't think..."

"Let's just leave it that way. I don't give a damn about anything you've got to say, anyway."

Dean crossed the room, relighting the stubs of several candles along the way. Now that he was here, he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do next. Leaving Crowley behind would be wasting a golden opportunity to eliminate him once and for all, but taking him along with them, which was Sam's suggestion, seemed like a recipe for disaster as well. After seeing the exodus of angels from heaven, Crowley had slipped way down Dean's list of 'crap that has to be dealt with _now_'. All Dean wanted to do was bundle his ailing brother into the Impala and get back to the Bat Cave. But Sam, damn his rational, over active brain, insisted he would be fine until the demon king was retrieved and safely stowed away in the trunk.

"You're trying to decide what to do with me." Crowley's voice was soft, subdued. "I can understand that."

The tone of the demon king's voice sounded all wrong: no sneering sarcasm, no arrogance. Dean glanced sideways at him as he stepped around the devil's trap, frowning as he noted Crowley's bruised and bloody face. He wondered if Sam had been goaded into inflicting the damage. That was highly unlikely; in his weakened state, Sam probably couldn't have swatted a fly. Then he recalled the cuts and bandaged wounds on Sam that hadn't been there when he had left with Castiel earlier. They both looked like they had been through the wars, but Crowley was still tightly encased in his chains..._So what happened here while I was gone?_

"Well, this has been fun and all," Dean said as he circled the chair and kicked at the chains surrounding Crowley's wrists. "But it's time to go."

Crowley blinked up at him. "You' re not going to leave me here?"

"I should."

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Dean stared down at the demon who stared off into space, refusing to meet Dean's eyes. _If this is an act, it's Oscar time_. This was not the voice, the snark, the arrogant attitude of the self proclaimed King of Hell. Something big had happened here, but between a semi-comatose brother in the car and a battered and subdued demon in chains, Dean didn't expect any answers any time soon.

"Have you ever wondered why I let the two of you live? I could have taken you out at any time, you know."

Dean froze, confused by both the softly uttered question, and the monotone, almost melancholy voice behind it. "Maybe you were outmatched."

Crowley tilted his head and smiled. "Maybe I was. Or maybe I knew I just had to be patient."

"Can this wait?" Dean said as he glanced around for the key to the padlock holding the demon's chains in place. _Damn it, Sam's probably got it in his pocket._ He turned for the door, but Crowley's voice, a bit stronger now, echoed across the room and stopped him in his tracks.

"You see, I knew Sam was going to die."

In the blink of an eye Dean found himself leaning over the battered demon's chair, Crowley's bloodied shirt gripped tightly in his hands.

"You knew all along the trials were gonna kill him?"

Crowley swallowed, and Dean could have sworn he caught a flash of fear in the demon's eyes. "Yes, I did. And at the time, it was a gift. Two birds, one stone, all that. Sooner or later, the trials would kill him, and you would soon follow. You two have a history of self destructing when the other one checks out."

Dean slammed him back into the chair. "Sorry to disappoint."

"I'm not disappointed. I don't expect you to believe me." He stopped, shaking his head in confusion, as if he couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

"Like I said before," Dean said, inspecting the chains again. " I really don't give a damn about anything you have to say."

"I can help him, you know." Crowley glanced up, a weariness in his eyes that Dean had never seen before.

"And why would you want to do that?"

Crowley sighed, his head hung low. "You have no idea what happened here, do you? What your brother did?"

Dean paced around the chair. " I know he damned near killed himself."

Crowley nodded. "The trials were designed to convey immense power to the person untaking them. But the power has to be used. The human body isn't meant to withstand that kind of voltage without venting it. When you stopped him from completing the last one..well, the pressure inside him is still there, and it will surely kill him...probably very soon."

"It would have killed him anyway!" Dean stopped, staring out the door into the darkness.

"And there's the rub, isn't it?" Crowley sat a bit straighter in his seat. "Damned if you do...well, you know the rest."

"Not if I can help it."

"Well, there's the problem, mate," the demon said. "You can't help him. I can."

Dean whirled back to stand over Crowley again. "And again I ask, why would you? What's in it for you?"

"My freedom."

"You're crazy." Dean started for the door again, shivering as a cold wind blew in through a shattered window frame he hadn't noticed before. Crowley followed his gaze and shrugged.

"We had an unruly visitor while you were on walkabout with your dandy angel. Sam took care of her."

"Her?" Dean glanced at the demon, who now sat quietly, studying his cuffed hands intently. _Abbadon...had to be her. _"Never mind." The hunter stopped in the doorway, blew out a long breath, then turned again.

"I can take care of Sam. I don't plan on letting you anywhere near him."

"That's a crock and you know it. We both know he's beyond your help." When Dean remained silent, he continued. "Your brother and I, we shared something here. He gave me back something I hadn't had in a long time." Crowley paused, then looked up at Dean. "I saw myself, what I had become over the centuries... I remembered, for the first time in a long time, what I used to be. The human I used to be."

"I'm getting all misty eyed here," Dean peered out the door, barely able to make out the fog shrouded shape of the Impala in the darkness. "But I'm not letting you go."

"It's a fair trade," Crowley said, and Dean shivered again, hearing the words echoed back to him that demons had used to persuade him to make a deal in the past. "My life for Sam's. You get your brother back and I go on my way. He'd never have to know."

"Forget it." Dean started for the door again, pausing as something metallic, nestled in a field of broken glass under the shattered window caught his eye. "Yahtzee," he said softly as he reached down and picked up the keys to the padlock securing Crowley's chains.

"They fell out of his pocket when he went out the window."

Dean rose slowly, a creeping sense of doom twisting his insides into knots. He looked over at the demon, who sat calmly, waiting for the impact of his words to take effect, then glanced down at the keys in his hand, tightening his grip when his hands started to shake.

He had screwed up. He had gone on a fruitless mission with Castiel while his sick, desperate and obviously injured brother had faced off with not one but _two _demons. Time was running out: for Sam, for the angels, for damned near _everybody_. He had to make up his mind and he had to do it _now._

Every fiber of his being screamed out against making _another_ demon deal, but his brother was fading away and Dean held no illusions that he could save him. Everyone..._everyone_ that had meant anything to them was gone. Sam was all he had left. In the end, it always came back to that. He would do what he had to, to save his brother. There would be another fight, another day, but only with his brother at his side. If he lost Sam now, the world could burn down around him, because Dean was done, plain and simple.

Crowley seemed to sense his indecision as he shifted in his seat. "Before you got here," he said softly. "I asked your brother a question."

Dean turned slowly, the keys dangling from his hand.

"I asked him how I could..." the demon grimaced, as if the words burned like acid in his mouth. " How to ask for forgiveness. I think..." Crowley paused, then glanced away. " I realize I can not undo the things I have done. But I can do this."

Shaking his head, he continued. " I don't even know _why_ I would want to help him. But something tells me it's the right thing to do. And I can't promise I won't take the two of you down the first chance I get; something tells me I still have that in me, too. But this is your best shot, squirrel. Take it or not, it's your call."

Dean closed his eyes, took a deep breath and stepped forward. Leaning over Crowley's shoulder, he hissed into the demon's ear:

"You get one chance, just one. You stay in the demonic cuffs and chains until Sam's healed. Then, and _only_ then, will you and I talk deal or no deal."

Crowley sat up as straight as his bonds would allow.

"Deal."

*S*S*S*S*

Dark, ominous clouds blocked the sun as Dean and Crowley, still tripping over his chains, exited the church. The Impala, black and silent, came into view as Dean shoved the demon forward.

"You better hope we're not too late," Dean growled. Crowley wisely kept silent as Dean reached over and opened the door.

Sam started a slow slide toward them as the door he had leaned upon for support swung out; Dean caught him and eased him upright on the seat, practically biting his tongue as Crowley leaned forward to help. The younger Winchester's eyes slowly opened, focusing slowly on the worried features of his brother.

"I'm okay," his voice was slurred and congested, but his breathing seemed a bit better. Dean blew out a ragged breath and attempted a comforting smile as he detected recognition in Sam's eyes. He turned to Crowley:

"One chance, no tricks."

"No tricks," the demon repeated as he stepped forward and placed his bloodied hands on either side of Sam's pale face. "Just don't touch either of us until I'm done."

Sam's bloodshot eyes widened as he felt the demon's icy touch. Thunder sounded in the distance as Crowley closed his eyes and softly began to chant.

Bile rose in Dean's throat as he fought the urge to snatch the demon's hands from his brother's skin. He watched as Sam's eyes slowly closed, then opened again, out of focus and glassy. Sam took a deep, ragged breath, then in a voice no more than a whisper, began to echo the unfamiliar words as Crowley spoke.

_What the hell?_ Dean kept a tight grip on the roof of the Impala as the incantation went on. His breath caught in his throat as an eerie glow emerged from the collar of Sam's muddy, bloodstained shirt. It traveled up either side of his throat and pooled underneath Crowley's hands. Then, with a shout, Crowley spat out the final words of the bizarre ritual. Dean stood transfixed, waiting to see if he had saved his brother or condemned him to a demon's eternal damnation.

For a long moment, the three men neither moved nor breathed. The macabre glow was fading now from Sam's skin as it transferred itself to Crowley's chained hands. Sam saggged back onto the seat, eyes still closed. His breathing had evened out and now sounded regular and deep. Crowley opened his eyes and stepped back, staring down at his hands in open wonder.

"That's it." The King of Hell stepped back and turned to Dean with an almost smug expression on his face. "He'll make it to a hospital now."

"What?" Dean grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the hood. "You said you would heal him."

"No," Crowley pushed Dean's hands away from his shoulders and stepped aside. "I said I would _help_ him. _You're_ the one that used the word _heal._"

"You son of a..."

"The devil's in the details," Crowley said, as he lifted his bound arms toward Dean. "Now, the key, if you please."

Dean glanced into the car, where Sam lay back against the seat, apparently sleeping. "Not until I know he's gonna be okay."

Crowley frowned, eyes narrowed and cold. "I said I would help him. You said you would free me. But no matter..." Crowley smiled and Dean's blood ran cold.

"Nice act, pretending to be repentant and all. Guess humanity doesn't fit your style." Dean grabbed the demon's arm, dragged him around the car and fished his trunk eyes out of his pocket. "Until I see Sam walking and talking, you're a guest of Chez Winchester." With a vicious twist of the chains, he shoved Crowley into the trunk, smiling as the demon glared at the demon's trap painted inside the lid.

Crowley stared up at Dean as he shifted in a vain attempt to get comfortable. "You have no idea what you just did, do you, squirrel?"

"I shoved your ass into a demon hot box. Get comfy." Dean started to close the trunk, when Crowley spoke again.:

"You really aren't very bright, are you? Let me spell it out for you. The power that was liquifying the Moose's innards? The power to control hell, created by God himself? It's not there anymore." Crowley crossed his bound hands over his lap and lay back against the spare tire. Then he flexed his swollen fingers and a faint orange glow flickered from his fingertips. "I never could have dreamed you'd just give it to me like this. I'll be sure and send you a thank you note...just before I burn your eyes out."

Dean stared down in horror as the implications of his deal became crystal clear. Yes, he had saved his brother, the only thing that mattered to him at the time. But he had made _another _demon deal, made an impossible situation that much more dire. Crowley now held the powers vested in the trials, the powers that Sam had almost died trying to obtain. The King of Hell now held the keys to unlock untold suffering on a world with no angels to balance the playing field.

And Dean had handed those keys over to him without a second thought.

He slammed the trunk lid, grimacing as the sound of Crowley's laughter echoed back at him. Dean walked slowly around the Impala, sliding into the driver's seat with a sigh. He glanced over at his brother, who now stared back at him with swollen, yet focused eyes.

"You...'right?" Sam whispered, too weak to raise his head from the seat.

"I'm good." Dean started to slip the keys into the ignition when he paused, raising his hand to his brother's slumping shoulder instead. "And you're gonna be fine, too. Gonna get the hell out of here and get you to a hospital."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes. Dean watched him for a moment, studied the even, steady breaths that had been so hard to maintain earlier, noticed the color that had already begun to return to his brother's sunken features. For _this_, he would do anything, give anything, make any deal that was thrown his way. There would come a day when he would have to tell his brother what he had done, what he had given in exchange for his brother's life.

But today was not that day.

END


End file.
